Kisses for you, kisses for me
by Levicitus
Summary: A look into the Sanada and Atobe's relationship, from 30 of their kisses. SanadaxAtobe


**Well, this took quite long to come out! Mostly because I had to edit this a gazillion times before I was remotely satisfied with it. It's still nowhere near perfect, so if you spot any mistakes, it would be much appreciated if you could tell me! :) **

**I don't own Prince of Tennis. Written using the 30kisses prompts, but not for 30kisses. :) Anyway, onto the story! :D**

**1. Look over here **

"Doubles two. From the Kantou National Team, Sanada Genichirou! Atobe Keigo!"

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the announcement. Doubles, with Atobe Keigo, Hyoutei's diva buchou? Kami-sama, what had I done to deserve this? Atobe and I were constantly at loggerheads, arguing over the most menial things such as hogging the bathroom, or having atrocious fashion sense. While I spent most of my time attempting to ignore him, something not made easy by the fact that we were roommates, he seemed to take a fiendish delight in watching me squirm at every possible opportunity as I lost yet another verbal spar. When keeping away from him was deemed impossible, I found myself invariably drawn into another meaningless argument with him. It was simply maddening that he knew how to get me riled up like no other.

Atobe Keigo and Sanada Genichirou – co-operate? Never.

To add insult to injury, we were playing in Doubles two. Doubles two, where the supposedly weakest played! While I may not have thought much of Atobe's personality, it was an undeniable fact that he was one of Japan's best players, what with his famed Insight and Hametsu e no Rondo. I myself was also one of the infamous Three Demons of Rikkai, the reigning champions of the Nationals for two years. Sending us out so early, I concurred, was definitely overkill. What on earth was Sakaki-sensei thinking?

You'd have to be deaf not to hear the awed murmurs that rippled through the stadium the instant we stepped onto the courts, and Atobe certainly was not. The cheers only served to swell his already over-inflated ego, and as the crowd started to chant his name, he raised a hand. Then, with a simple snap of his fingers, he managed to silence the few-hundred strong crowd. With one snap! Atobe had such control over the crowd; it may have rivalled even that of Yukimura's. And, however unwillingly, I had to give him credit for that.

However, any feelings of admiration I might have felt for Atobe vanished along with the jacket that was previously draped over the diva's shoulders. Yes, Atobe had flung his jacket into the air like some practiced theatrical move (which, on later reflection, I felt that it probably was). Then, with a careless flick of his hair, he completed the crowd's chant with a smug, "Me!"

Sure, I had seen Atobe's renowned "pre-match routine" before, but observing it candidly from the stands, and being the partner who was forced to endure his theatrics were two vastly different things. Seriously, throwing his jacket on the ground? It would impede our movements if it weren't put aside, and I was as sure as hell that Atobe wasn't about to let his royal ass anywhere near "dirty, commoner's ground", just to pick up a jacket. Pretentious and redundant, I decided, were two words that were simply made to describe this move.

However, the crowd seemed to disagree. Screams ripped through the momentary silence caused by his proclamation, as his fans shouted out their adulation. I wasn't used to holding back, and by deciding not to spoil his moment, it took nearly all my willpower to hold back a disbelieving "What the hell, Atobe?"

"As always, you love to be flashy." This sentence, however, broke involuntarily through my lips. As annoying as always, Atobe _apologised_ of all things, saying he was sorry that he stood out more than me in his usual sarcastic tone.

The thing is? I couldn't decide whether to be amused or angry.

Well, so he was more noticeable than me. Who cares? It wasn't like the attention you get determined the quality of your play. I snorted derisively at that. If it had been so, then Atobe would probably have been a world-class player, without a doubt.

Well, hopefully his famed moves were as good as they sounded. If these people were selected from the whole of America, they were definitely a force to be reckoned with. While I was confident enough of my abilities, doubles was played by two. Without co-operation, even though we were both national-class players, we would be hard pressed to win. This I knew only too well.

xxx

They're not showing us their true power. I knew this, and from the look in Atobe's eyes, he knew it as well. I ground my teeth together. How _dare_ they take us for fools?

I'll make them regret that.

xxx

I can't believe I fell for that feint! It was one of the oldesttricks in the book! How could I have let my guard down? Damn it. That guy was going to _pay_.

xxx

Oh _shit_. They were overwhelming us. This was unbelievable. Even though we were in the lead point-wise, I could tell that the quality of their play had improved dramatically.

At this rate we could… No. I wouldn't let myself think that. I'd just have to have confidence in my skills, because Atobe's lack of co-operation certainly didn't do anything to make me have more faith in him.

No way in hell was I going down without a fight.

xxx

Wow. Okay, this move I had to give him credit for. Tanhäuser serve, was it? Wasn't that part of a play? At the smug look that Atobe threw at me, I attempted to shut my gaping mouth, only too aware that it made me look like an idiot.

What was this I was feeling? Oh yeah, grudging _admiration_.

xxx

Well, it would have been too much to hope that Atobe's serve was all we needed to overwhelm them, but I had hoped to that he could have kept his service game without a hitch. Not many would notice it, but as his partner, I seemed to notice more than ever before. As his service game wore on, it might only be a minute difference, but the ball was rising steadily, skimming over the ground less and less.

I spared a glance towards Atobe. Not good. His shoulders were heaving; probably from the tremendous strain that such a serve would put on one's arm. This was not good. Not good at all. It was only then that I noticed his eyes. Wide, as he gasped for breath, but blazing with determination. Nothing was going to stop him from keeping his serve, not even the limits of his own body.

xxx

We were co-operating. We were actually freaking working together, and quite well too, if I had to say so myself. It was a completely one-eighty from before. I didn't know what had caused such a sudden change in our dynamics, but I'll be damned if I said it wasn't for the better. The tide had abruptly shifted, and it was in our favour. To my surprise working together with Atobe Keigo actually felt, well, _natural_.

If we continue like this, we might actually win.

Over-confidence could kill, but it'd have to take a tidal wave to stop us now. And the thought brought an involuntary smirk to my mouth, as I swung my racket to secure the point.

xxx

Doubles two had just ended in a glorious victory for the Japanese team. However, it had been a taxing game, and we were both thoroughly exhausted.

_But apparently he still has the energy to bask in the glory and adoration of his fan club_. I thought wryly while observing Atobe go through his usual post-match routine ("be awed by our prowess!"), and the screaming fans lapping it up. However, I couldn't help but feel slightly moved that Atobe, in spite of being the self-centred jerk that he was, had extended the invitation to share the victory, the moment of glory, with _me_.

In spite of his apparent vigour, however, it was apparent that only it had only been pure tenacity that had been keeping Atobe upright. Because it was then that Atobe decided to do something decidedly un-Atobeish.

He tripped.

Normally, I would hardly bat an eye at this, having gotten used to the antics of my team. But the only problem with this ignorance strategy was the fact that Atobe had chosen to trip on, of all places, _me_. This, coupled with the actuality that he was no less tired than Atobe was caused us both to crumple together in a rather compromising position on the floor, and along the way, our lips to somehow meet.

And no matter how vehemently denied this was, I _liked_ how perfectly the Hyoutei player fit into his arms. The comfortable weight of Atobe's body pressed against mine, and the heady taste of diva's mouth, was almost too much to handle at once.

"Say cheese, Sanada-san, Atobe-san!" This cheerfully proclaimed statement was followed by a blinding flash of light.

Where the hell had Seigaku's tensai gotten a camera!

2. News; letter 

_Dear Sanada,_

_Ore-sama has discovered, much to his absolute horror, the high possibility of himself being attracted to you. Therefore after much consideration, ore-sama has deigned to inquire if you would partake in the delight of dining with him._

_Yours,  
Atobe Keigo_

That won't do. Atobe mused, as he crossed out the entire paragraph.

_Sanada,_

_I like you, okay? _

_Bisous,  
Atobe_

3. Jolt! 

When the other walks into the same room, it's like the room has suddenly become suffocatingly hard to breathe in.

When their eyes meet, it's like they're tossing a ball, back and forth, each person daring the other to make the first move.

When they talk, it's like jousting, each one searching for the weaknesses and chinks in the opponents' solid wall of defence, both worming their way into the opponents' heart.

When they start rallying, it's like time stutters to a halt, and for a moment, nothing else exists, except for the bound of the ball, the swing of their rackets, and each other.

When they touch, be it a casual brush of their arms, or the interlocking of their fingers, it's like lava is pouring thorough their veins.

When they kiss, lightning shoots through their entire being, shattering all the façades they have put up, all the barriers they have set in place, all because of their fear of falling in love.

4. Our distance and that person

**Be careful.**

**Good luck.**

**Are you okay?**

**Do you have to go on that trip?**

**Who was he? Tell me and I'll punch his lights out.**

Atobe loves the little notes that Sanada writes for him sometimes. They can pop up at any moment, for any reason, but they'll always be the highlight of Atobe's day. And after sucking out every nuance of information from those few words, he'll press his lips to them gently. Then they'll be gingerly placed into the bound leather box, among all the other things that Sanada has given him.

But there's one that he carries around, and just can't bring himself to lock up.

**I love you.**

5. "ano sa" ("hey, you know...")

"Hmph. What a stiff bunch. Who trains directly after a match anyway?" Momoshiro couldn't help but complain on the way to the Nikunikuen.

"Fshhhh… we should be doing that too! It's perfectly logical, baka Momoshiro!"

"What was that, mamushi? You want to fight?"

"Calm down, both of you. Don't let down your guard!" The (only) voice of reason in Seigaku, Tezuka, spoke up.

"Tezuka-buchou, I think we've taken a wrong turn." Echizen chose this moment to add his voice into the mix.

There was no denying this fact. Instead of arriving at their destination, they had instead arrived at a six-star French restaurant. Ryuzaki sensei took one look at the prices, and promptly had a heart attack.

"Hoi hoi! Isn't that Rikkaidai's Sanada-san and Hyoutei's Atobe-san? Together?"

This served to divert the attention of everyone in the team from Ryuzaki-sensei instantaneously. Everyone turned, just in time to catch sight of the infamous stoic fukubuchou of Rikkai, and the diva buchou of Hyoutei locked at the lips.

"Ii data… So this was why he refused to come with us…"

"Ano sa, don't they need air?"

Tezuka could feel a migraine coming on.

**Thanks for reading! :D**

**2- 'Bisous' is 'kisses' in French. It's used to sign off letters sometimes.  
5- Inspired by the ikkon 'Tenipuri Voyeurs' **


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